


I'm Not Supposed To Be Here

by EndlessGloaming



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Angst, CFSWF, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Missing Scene, Sad, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessGloaming/pseuds/EndlessGloaming
Summary: A missing scene from right after Amaram betrays Kaladin, when he first gets sold into slavery.While in the bridge crews, Kaladin said that he learned not to mention that he'd killed a Shardbearer. We know he got punished a lot. We never see the details. This is my take on how Kaladin's time as a slave started.This is as brutal and depressing as you think it's going to be. It's Kaladin whump.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	I'm Not Supposed To Be Here

**Author's Note:**

> How is it I so enjoy both lovely soft things happening to Kaladin and horrifying brutal things happening to him? (Intense emotions either way, I suppose.)

The brand on Kaladin's forehead kept burning, as if hot metal still seared his flesh. There was no pulling away from it, no putting anything on it to dull the pain. They wouldn't even let him put antiseptic on it.

The burn felt far larger than it was, as if it extended up onto his scalp and down onto his eyelids, and his eyes hadn't entirely stopped watering since. What was it about burns that made them so storming painful?

_Storms curse Amaram. There aren't hot enough fires in Damnation for that man._

Tied to a chair in a dark, stuffy tent, Kaladin couldn't escape the images that kept popping into his mind. Over and over, he saw his men getting slaughtered, first those cut down by the Shardbearer, then those betrayed by Amaram. He tried to push the memories away, to distract himself, but there was little else to focus on besides the pain of the brand. Kaladin was still exhausted, giving everything a feeling of unreality. Dreamlike--no, nightmarish.

This couldn't really be happening, could it?

After an indeterminate time, a couple of soldiers came to untie him, though they left his hands bound behind him.

 _This is a farce. Surely I can convince them._ "This is a mistake! I didn't desert. Amaram set me up. I killed the Shardbearer--"

One of the soldiers punched him in the gut. "Deserter and a liar. You're a pile of stormleavings, you know that?"

The soldiers dragged Kaladin out of the tent and shoved him forward, toward a dirty trio of men. "This is your new owner, deserter. His name's Tarl. Better show him more respect than you showed us."

The three men were burly, wearing shabby clothing, with cudgels and whips on their belts. Tarl must have been the one in the center, for the other two responded to his gestured command, lumbering over to Kaladin, one on either side of him, and grabbing his arms. Wordlessly, they dragged him forward, away from the lights of the army camp.

Kaladin stumbled as rough hands jerked him into a march into the darkness. "I'm not supposed to be here! I'm the one who killed the Shardbearer! Amaram killed my men and took the Shards--"

_Crack_

Kaladin's cheek flashed with pain. Twisting his head around, he saw a small reed whip. Storms, that hurt more than it looked like it should have.

"They warned me you might be trouble, might need some breaking in." The voice was like a rusty hinge. Tarl, a darkeyed slaver who was now supposedly his "owner," stood behind Kaladin. "Told 'em I knew how to handle a fresh slave, get him to accept his fate. Faster you do that, easier this'll be, boy."

"No, really, I was betrayed - I'm not a deserter and I'm not supposed to be a slave--"

_Crack_

That storming reed struck him again, this time on his palm and fingers. It felt like he'd grabbed the hot end of a poker. Reflexively he tried to yank his hand away, but his wrists were tied behind his back, so instead he stumbled forward, trying to move his whole body away.

"If I believed all the stories you cremlings told, I'd be one of the ten fools. No more lies, young man."

"It's not a lie. Look, I don't know how to find proof of what I'm telling you--"

_Crack crack_

Kaladin ducked, cringing away from something that was already gone, pain clouding his vision as his forehead exploded in pain. Bastard hit him right on the burns.

"That's because there ain't no proof. Boys, gag him. If he won't be quiet on his own, he'll have to learn the hard way not to talk back."

The rough men standing next to Kaladin started to tie a disgusting piece of cloth across his mouth. Twisting out of their grip, Kaladin managed to kick the feet out from under one of the men, sending him sprawling. The other moved to punch Kaladin in the gut, but he was already twisting out of the way and striking the man with a knee to his back, easily knocking him over in the direction he was already going for the punch.

_Thunk_

Kaladin's vision swam and he stumbled, pain in his head distracting him too much to defend himself before another strike took him in the ribs. Tarl had his club out. Another blow hit Kaladin in the shin and he shouted at the sharp pain, desperately trying to put his hands out to catch himself as he fell, but there was nothing he could do about the bonds. Down he went, landing largely on one knee and one shoulder, releasing another cry as he did.

Tarl loomed, brandishing his club. Kaladin couldn't bring himself to move.

"Told you, boy, best thing you can do is get used to this. Part of knowing how to break fresh slaves is knowing how to cause pain without doing enough damage to keep the fellow from working. But make no mistake, boy, I will keep you in line, even if it means damaging my property."

Tears stung Kaladin's eyes, dripping off his nose and cheeks, and not just from the physical pain.

 _This can't be happening_.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this. I'm delighted to get feedback!


End file.
